


Choices

by Soledad



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Different Athosian culture, F/M, Unusual families, slightly AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-11
Updated: 2018-03-13
Packaged: 2019-03-30 00:08:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 18,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13938384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soledad/pseuds/Soledad
Summary: Teyla Emmagan re-evaluates her choices and decides on a new path for her life in Atlantis, much to Dr. Kavanagh’s surprise.





	1. Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story was a side product to my long-planned but never truly realized Zelenka-centered Atlantis AU, “Moments of Joy” and takes place among the same settings. The main difference to canon is my personal take on Athosian society. As Teyla is the only one who seems to have a surname, I simply assumed that it was actually her title as the leader of the tribe and not a surname at all. Also, I assumed that her tribe wasn’t the only one on the entire planet – that would be a bit hard to believe, wouldn’t it? So I made them the tribe that lived in close proximity to the Stargate, for reasons they didn’t want to share with outsiders.
> 
> Dedication: I was surprised to learn that there are other people aside from me who liked the abrasive Dr. Kavanagh. So, this one is for my fellow KavTolAnom members on LJ. Have fun, ladies!
> 
> Beta read by Rizzy, thanks!

*** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ***  
**PART 1**

It didn’t take long for Teyla – no longer called Emmagan, as leadership of the Athosian tribe that was now living on the mainland had been transferred to Halling – to realize that Major Sheppard wouldn’t be the right choice for her. Sure, the fact that she was now a mere representative of her people in Atlantis left her more freedom to choose new bondmates, and finding these outside the tribe was considered a good thing. They had been inbreeding for too long already. Anika and Marta had been the last ones coming from a different tribe. It was time for a change, time for bringing new genetic traits into her people.

So yes, she was more than willing to seek bondmates from within the Atlantis crew. There were many good-looking, intelligent, dedicated people. And despite the profound cross-cultural differences, Teyla was certain that the people from Earth would accept the Athosian custom of clan marriage, sooner or later. They didn’t really have any other choice, with no way home and only half as many women in the city of the Ancestors as they had men.

Right now, they were still clinging to their ideal of twosome relationships; which was understandable, as this type of family had been the norm for them for at least two thousand years. But they would have to adapt if they wanted to survive here. Dr. Zelenka had already made the first step, even though some aspect of his new family still were kept secret from his fellow Earthlings. More would follow, eventually.

But not John Sheppard. Not for a long while yet – if ever. The man was self-absorbed, arrogant and completely unable to adapt. He was always trying to shape the world according his own tastes – which, Teyla knew from personal experience, simply didn’t work that way.

If she was honest with herself – which she usually was – she had to admit that she was nursing a personal grudge against Sheppard. The man had misled her when first visiting the old homeworld. His behaviour had suggested – for an _Athosian_ – that he was interested in an alliance, forged by the personal bond of two leaders. Such bonds, while not very common, did exist between two tribes and usually led to a merge. Well, her tribe had begun the slow process of merging with the Earth people. But John Sheppard had only been flirting, flashing his cocky flyboy persona, even after their relocation to Atlantis.

Teyla had misunderstood the signs, and it cost her her leadership. Now she was the only Athosian in the city of the Ancestors – save for Marta’s frequent and lengthy visits – and had to try her best to create a new household here. A household that would contain Earth humans, mostly.

She went to the gym to work out and so clear her mind. It was past midnight; at this late hour usually no one worked on the machines, built creatively by the engineers in their nonexistent spare time. The only other person there was a tall, well-built man – but not so ridiculously over-muscled as many young soldiers seemed to prefer – working on one of the gluteus machines. The man had dark, wavy hair that reached down to his shoulder blades, and offered an impressive sight, even with his back turned to her.

It was a nice back, actually, with strong, but not overly broad shoulders tapering down to lean hips and long legs – the kind often seen among Athosians in both hunters and warriors. Teyla caught herself eyeing the man appreciatively. She wondered who he could be. None of the soldiers, obviously – they all had to wear short-cropped hair. One of the scientists, then. Only that she couldn’t remember having seen one with such a lush mane.

Granted, she didn’t often see any other scientists than doctors McKay and Grodin, sometimes perhaps Zelenka, but still, she should have noticed such a promising specimen already.

Like all people, Athosians _did_ care for physical attributes – but their preferences weren’t exactly the same as those of Earth humans. They sought attributes in a potential mate that would be helpful in the eternal struggle against the Wraith. Physical strength was a desired trait, and so was quickness, both in body and mind. Caution was welcomed as well as a stout heart, for one who panicked easily didn’t have a chance during a Wraith attack. The ability to sense the presence of the Wraith was also highly valued… but extremely rare. She could not hope to find such a mate among the Atlantis crew, but that wasn’t a problem, as he already had the ability herself.

What she needed right now was a new start – she needed to select _one_ new partner first, preferably before her current fertile cycle was over, to found a new household that would replace the one killed by the most recent Wraith attacks. She could always add further members to the household. One step a time. But she had to make the first step, or else she would have to wait until the next summer season to conceive a child.

This chance meeting provided her with an opportunity to make a new acquaintance, and she was determined to use it. She only needed to consider a proper tactic to approach the man. One that would not give off false signals – she had learned to be very careful with her body language among these people. One grave error was enough. She didn’t want to make another one.

Before she could make her move, though, the man made his. Obviously finished with his exercises, he stepped down from the machine and snatched a towel from the nearby rack to rub his sweaty neck and face. While doing so, he turned halfway to Teyla, who stood as if rooted to the metallic floor from sheer surprise.

Even without the glasses and that lush mane pulled back into a tight (and not very attractive) ponytail, the man was easy to recognize. He was also the last person Teyla would have expected to find here.

What was Dr. Kavanagh doing in the gym, alone, in the middle of the night?

 *** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ***  
To say that Dr. Calvin Thomas Kavanagh was not the most popular person in Atlantis would be the same as stating that the ocean was wet: painfully obvious. People didn’t just dislike him; they seemed to positively love to hate him. Teyla could never truly understand why, no matter how often Dr. McKay or Major Sheppard tried to explain it to her.

Sure, the man _was_ abrasive, but so was Dr. McKay, and nobody avoided _him_ like a contagious disease for his manners. People also often complained about Dr. Kavanagh pointing out every possible detail that could go wrong, and that in the most contrary manner possible. But nobody could say that he had ever been _wrong_ when voicing his concerns. Even Dr. McKay had to admit, no matter how reluctantly, that Kavanagh, just like Zelenka, was a brilliant engineer. But since Dr. Zelenka was friendly and easy-going aside from his brilliance, McKay always gave him the interesting assignments (well, the few ones he didn’t keep for himself, anyway) and put Kavanagh to jobs nobody would volunteer for. Like sewage-treatment duty.

Yes, Kavanagh bitched and complained about that all the time, too; and no, it wasn’t always pleasant to listen to his rants. Truth be told, it was _never_ pleasant. But he always did his assigned tasks to one hundred percent proficiency – and some more.

True, he always pouted about his work not being appreciated, and that attitude became old just as quickly. But as far as Teyla could see – which was not very far, as most of Earth or Ancient technology was hopelessly beyond her understanding – people really did not appreciate his work. Teyla still remembered vividly the accident with the puddle jumper wedged into the Stargate, just a few weeks after their arrival to Atlantis. According to Dr. Grodin, Kavanagh had raised the same concerns as Dr. McKay himself pointed out somewhat later. For some reason she couldn’t understand, Kavanagh got put down for it in a rather humiliating manner. McKay got nothing but admiration for his ‘selfless insight’.

Sometimes Teyla asked herself if she would ever understand these people from a distant galaxy.

 *** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ***  
Kavanagh must have felt her presence, because he turned around – and froze. The formerly thoughtful expression upon his face (and not an ugly face by any measure, Teyla noticed absently) give way to an annoyed scowl.

The man had no reason to be annoyed by her presence. No true reason at least. But Teyla understood that Dr. Kavanagh probably considered her as part of Dr. McKay’s team – as an ally of the people who made his life miserable.

It was a strange logic but, as she had realized some time ago, rather common among Earth people.

She needed to show the man that he’d been wrong in judging her based on the circle of her new friends. Said friends probably wouldn’t understand why he cared for Kavanagh’s feelings (most people assumed the man didn’t have any), but again, Sheppard’s team didn’t have the same priorities as she did. She was running out of time and couldn’t afford to leave a possible candidate out of consideration, no matter what other people in Atlantis thought about this candidate.

“Dr. Kavanagh,” she said and inclined her head with the gesture of a formal greeting. “I did not expected to find you here.”

The scowl deepened considerably.

“Not all scientists are whiny little boys who can’t lift anything heavier than a screwdriver,” Kavanagh said angrily. “I used to play basketball in college, and was on the athletic team, if you must know.”

“Then why come here late in the night, in secret?” Teyla asked. “The gym is open for everyone, isn’t it?”

“I don’t want the brain-deprived military think that I’m trying to suck up to them,” Kavanagh replied curtly. “If they knew I’m well capable of taking care for myself, they’d feel useless. And believe me, _that_ makes them cranky. Well, crankier than they already are. Like Bates, for example.”

Teyla nodded. She’d had a few unpleasant run-ins with the no-nonsense, slightly paranoid Sergeant Bates herself. She knew all too well how unreasonable Earth soldiers could be if they chose to.

Kavanagh shot him a knowing look, and they both nodded in understanding. There was no need for words. They were both outcasts, in a way. Teyla because she didn’t belong to the expedition team (or to _anyone_ in the expedition team, like Marta), and Kavanagh because – well, she still didn’t really know the reason.

“What are _you_ doing down here, in the middle of the night?” Kavanagh finally asked. “You usually work out with Major James T. Sheppard.”

“I wanted to think over things,” she replied, missing the weird cultural reference, although it wasn’t the first time she’d heard Sheppard called that. “A lonely workout usually clears the mind.”

That caught Kavanagh’s attention.

“Are you having problems with the Dream Team?” he asked sarcastically, but not in an unfriendly manner.

“No,” she replied simply. “It wasn’t their fault that I misread the message.”

One ironic eyebrow rose almost to the roots of that lush mane. “What message?”

“I thought they wanted an alliance,” Teyla explained with a shrug. “I was mistaken. And then, I realized my mistake too late, and my people were gone and I was alone among strangers here.”

“An… alliance?” Kavanagh repeated, obviously not understanding her choice of word. His eyes seemed huge without the glasses.

“A bond,” she tried to explain it better. “To create a new household. Major Sheppard was sending out confusing signs. I misinterpreted them. That’s all.”

“Oh,” Kavanagh finally understood. “You thought he was really interested, while all he wanted was to flirt, right?”

Teyla was familiar enough with English speech patterns to understand his meaning.

“More or less,” she admitted. “I was somewhat in a hurry. My entire household was killed during the two recent Wraith cullings. I must found a new one, soon, before my fertile cycle ends. We cannot afford to remain alone for too long, or the genetic heritage of our ancestors could get lost, forever.”

Kavanagh nodded. It made sense that the Athosians would marry at a fairly young age and have children by the dozens. That might be the only way to avoid complete eradication by the Wraith. There was safety in numbers.

“So you are looking for a husband?” he asked. That made sense, too. There were many good-looking young men in Atlantis, even though he, personally, didn’t consider Marines as the best breeding material. But perhaps the Athosians saw it differently. Strong men, like that Halling character, had better survival chances than weak ones.

Which didn’t explain why that pretty girl, Marta, had chosen _Zelenka_ , of all people, of course.

“I’m looking for a _household_ ,” Teyla corrected. “But _one_ partner would be a beginning, yes.” Seeing the man’s confusion, she carefully added. “Our ways are a bit… different. We cannot afford twosome bonds – that wouldn’t ensure the protection of our children. I used to have two male bondmates and a female one, and we already had three children between us when the Wraith caught us on our way to a new settlement. My mates were killed or taken. I was badly wounded myself, but somehow managed to run and hide. When we were found, there was no trace of the children. The hunters looked for them but never found them.”

It cost Kavanagh some time to recover from his shock, which wasn’t caused by Teyla’s sober, matter-of-fact report of her family’s extinction alone. The background information that came with the story was just as hard to take.

“You live in group marriages, then?” he finally asked. Actually, strange as it was for someone coming from Earth’s Western culture, it _did_ make sense. Such a practice provided more chance to save the children from growing up as orphans.

Teyla nodded. “The custom developed quickly after the first Wraith cullings, just like our semi-nomadic lifestyle. Even so, survival is a victory hard won.” She paused for a moment, then asked hesitantly. “Do you have a household of your own, Dr. Kavanagh?”

The man shrugged, his eyes darkening with some old pain.

“I was married once, yes,” he answered, “but when our younger son turned out… damaged, my wife couldn’t live with that and left me, taking our firstborn with her. After a long and rather ugly fight, I finally got my older son back. My sister and her husband raise them; they’re childless themselves, and happy to have someone to care for.”

“How can a child be ‘damaged’?” Teyla asked. “And what kind of woman would leave her child behind, no matter what’s wrong with the child?”

“Tommy is mentally disabled,” Kavanagh said. “He will never develop beyond the mental state of a six-year-old, or so they say. He needs special care and will need it as long as he lives.” He sighed tiredly. “I don’t blame my ex-wife for running away – it’s a very hard thing for a parent to watch their child to stagnate and fall back behind other children.”

“Was that the reason you ran to another galaxy?” Teyla asked, not feeling particularly understanding at the moment. Kavanagh shook his head.

“I was chosen for this expedition because I’m one of the best. That they pay for it more than anywhere else was just a bonus. Special care isn’t cheap: the doctors, the teachers, the medication – it all cost a lot of money. My sister and her husband don’t have that money. Besides, _I am_ Tommy’s father. And if I can buy for him the chance of a happy life by coming to a different galaxy it isn’t such a high price.”

Teyla nodded in agreement. Athosians did everything in their power to ensure the survival of their children. She found it only natural that Earth humans would do the same.

“What about your other son?” she asked. 

Kavanagh smiled. It was a surprisingly pleasant sight; it positively changed his face.

“Liam is healthy, fortunately. In fact, he seems to have all the intelligence his brother lacks. He goes to a special school for gifted children. Which isn’t cheap, either,” he added dryly, “so I really need the extra payment we get for the risks we're facing here.”

Teyla had already learned a great deal about life on Earth – before everything else that people had to trade their work and knowledge for small objects called ‘money’, and then again, they had to change that ‘money’ for things they needed. It seemed to her that on Earth, the greatest concern of people was how to acquire enough of that ‘money’, or else they wouldn’t have anything to eat or to wear; no homes in which to live, no respect, no influence. She wasn’t sure she’d like to live on Earth, despite the Wraith threat here. It seemed such an… unnatural way to live.

“Don’t you miss your sons?” she asked quietly. That earned her another annoyed scowl… and an answer that made her begin to understand why people generally disliked Dr. Kavanagh.

“Of course I miss them, don’t be stupid!” the man snapped. “Still, what good would it do for them if I were at home, but they couldn’t get the care and the education they need? Besides, my sister is a good enough mother to them – better than most, in fact – and her husband has more time to spend with the kids than I could ever hope to have. They are better off with them.”

“Perhaps,” substitute parentage was a common thing among Athosians. In fact, it was the basics of and the reason for the whole clan marriage system. “It deprives you of the joy of seeing your sons grow up, though.”

Kavanagh shrugged. “I have pictures.”

“And that’s enough?” she asked doubtfully.

The man scowled again. “Of course not! But it’s better than nothing,” he hesitated for a moment, then asked. “Want to see them?”

The offer surprised Teyla greatly, especially as she knew that Kavanagh wasn’t the person who’d share anything personal with others, not even with his closest co-workers. But perhaps that was the reason why he’d chosen to let in a complete stranger. Solitude was a heavy burden to bear, more so in a foreign place. She knew that all too well, even though people were generally a lot friendlier to her than they were to Kavanagh.

“I’d like to,” she answered softly. Kavanagh nodded abruptly and walked out of the gym. He didn’t even look back to see if she was following him.


	2. Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story was written long before TPTB would deign to give Dr Kavanagh a first name. I based part of his personality as I see it on the name Calvin and I don't intend to change it. Besides, "Peter" will always mean Grodin to me.

*** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ***   
**PART 2**

She _did_ follow him, of course. Her interest was piqued now, and she wanted to know what nobody else seemed to know – or to be interested in – in Atlantis: the kind of person the unpopular Dr. Kavanagh was without his cold, arrogant mask.

The man’s quarters were bleak and impersonal like a storage room, the narrow cot neatly made, and the desk almost unnaturally well-ordered. As if all that belonged to some human-shaped machine, not a flesh and blood creature. There seemed to be no personal items at all in that room. Somehow Teyla found it a sad thing.

Without offering her a seat or anything else, Kavanagh sat down to the desk and powered up the small, rectangular device Earth people called a laptop. Rummaging in a plastic box for a moment, he found soon enough what he was looking for: a thin silver disk that he put into the sliding shot of the laptop. He touched a few buttons on the keyboard, and the small images on the plain black viewscreen – they were called icons, Teyla had heard from other scientists – were replaced with the image of two boys sitting on some indefinable place. Outdoors, most likely, as there were trees and grass to see.

The boys were round-faced and bright-eyed, with an unruly map of dark blond hair. One of them – the taller, stronger one – bore a striking familiarity to his father, right down to the wire-rimmed glasses.

“That’s Tommy,” Kavanagh said to Teyla’s surprise. “He has weak eyes, too.”

Strangely enough, it was the older boy, the supposedly healthy one that looked more fragile. And there was a sadness in his eyes that made him look much older than his actual age.

“He looks so sad,” Teyla whispered, her heart going out for the boy. Kavanagh nodded grimly.

“He never quite got over the shock of his mother running away with him. He was only four years old back then.”

“How old is he now?”

“Eight. And Tommy is six,” Kavanagh hit a key and the picture of the two boys was replaced with one of an entire family. There were, aside from the kids, three people in the picture: a ruddy-faced man with curly blond hair who looked disturbingly like a younger version of the treacherous Genii leader, a thin, reddish-blonde woman and a tall, handsome young man who had some faint resemblance to Kavanagh.

“My younger brother, Dion,” Kavanagh said. “My sister Siobhan and her husband, Patrick.”

“And where are you?” Teyla asked. “Are you not part of the family?”

“I took the pictures,” Kavanagh replied. “I’m in the other ones.”

He showed her some more photos, where he could be seen with his sons and siblings. The last photo was that of two elderly people, sitting in high-backed chairs, with an unnaturally stiff posture.

“My father is a priest,” Kavanagh explained, staring at the silver-haired, dignified-looking man with the iciest eyes Teyla had ever seen. “A… religious leader, you would probably say. And my mother is his faithful shadow.”

“You are religious?” Teyla asked in surprise, because that was the last thing he’d have expected from the arrogant scientist. _Religious_ , that meant someone like Halling in her mind, and nobody could be more different from Halling than Dr. Kavanagh.

“Not even close to it,” Kavanagh answered with a harsh laughter. “After having lived in fear from an unforgiving God during my entire childhood, I turned my back on religion as soon as I turned sixteen. My father disowned me for leaving the one true path and declared in front of the entire community that Tommy’s… condition was a punishment from God for my unfaithfulness. We haven’t spoken again since then. I never set foot in his house after that.”

“I can see why,” Teyla commented quietly. Kavanagh nodded.

“It was hard enough to accept that Tommy is… well, the way he is. And that his mother couldn’t bear to see him day after day. But to believe in a god who would do this to an innocent child, just to punish me for not going to church anymore… sometimes I wonder how could have someone as cold and cruel as my father produced good people like my sister and brother.”

“And you still keep his picture?” Teyla said in surprise.

Kavanagh shrugged again. “Only as a reminder to never _ever_ become like him. There _is_ that risk, you know. We are very alike in many things. More alike than I’d feel comfortable with.”

“Is your father arrogant and rude, too?” Teyla asked bluntly.

For a moment, Kavanagh glared at her murderously – and then he began to laugh.

“ _Touché_ ,” he said when he finally could speak again. I do have that reputation.”

“And well-earned, too,” Teyla added, grinning. Kavanagh grinned back at her.

“You spend too much time with McKay. You’re beginning to take on his prejudices. For him everyone who doesn’t worship the earth under his feet is arrogant and rude.”

“Actually, this is Dr. Zelenka’s opinion,” Teyla corrected. “But he also says that you are very good at what you do – just unpleasant to work with.”

“He says the same thing about McKay,” Kavanagh said.

Teyla nodded solemnly. “It’s true for Dr. McKay, too. Dr. Zelenka is a very observant man.”

Kavanagh grinned. He actually liked Zelenka, not that he’d ever show any sign of it. But he couldn’t help it – the wispy-haired little Czech was almost preternaturally likeable.

“And he’s a very good engineer, too,” he said. “He deserves better than being McKay’s sidekick… although, if I think about it, he’s probably the only one who can handle McKay so that McKay still believes himself in charge. That sneaky little bastard!”

Teyla felt the thinly veiled affection beyond the words that, nominally, would have been insults. She suppressed a smile. She knew that everyone in Atlantis liked Dr. Zelenka – she just hadn’t known before that ‘everyone in Atlantis’ included Kavanagh as well.

“We all have our little tricks to survive, Dr. Kavanagh,” she said.

He looked at her in a rather... strange way for a moment, as if considering whether he should trust her any further or not. Then he seemed to have come to a decision.

“Calvin,” he offered hesitantly.

Teyla frowned. “I beg your pardon?”

“My given name,” he explained. “You may use it, if you want. This is not a formal meeting, after all, is it?”

“Calvin,” she repeated, trying the sound of it. “What sort of name is it? It sounds different from the ones your people usually have.”

“It’s a fairly traditional name in religious families,” Kavanagh pulled a face. “I used to hate it when I was a kid. But after a while I found that it suited the person I have become – for good or for ill, I’m not sure.”

“It does have a hard edge,” Teyla agreed. “Just like you, most of the time. Still I don’t really think that it suits the person you are in the inside. The one you’ve just allowed me to see. Do your siblings call you Calvin?”

“Not really,” Kavanagh admitted with a rueful grin. “My sister calls me Cal, which is okay, even if it sounds silly. My brother calls me Batman, and I’d be extremely grateful if you could keep that piece of information confidential. I’d never live it down.”

“Why not?” Teyla wondered if she was missing another cultural reference thing here.

“Batman and Robin were the heroes of our favourite childhood stories,” Kavanagh explained; he looked almost embarrassed by it. “Dion, my brother, got them from a friend, as we weren’t allowed to read such ‘shallow’ stuff. We used to read them under the blanket, with a flashlight, so that our father wouldn’t catch us. I read a lot of my favourite stuff that way,” he added thoughtfully, “which is part of the reason why I’ve needed glasses since I turned ten, most likely.”

“You weren’t allowed much as a child, were you?” Teyla asked, feeling strong compassion for the boy the man used to be.

“Nothing that would have even remotely had to do anything with fun,” Kavanagh replied wryly. “But between the three of us, we always found a way around our father’s stupid rules. We’d have gone mad, otherwise.”

“You don’t really strike me as a rule-breaker,” Teyla remarked. “In fact, your colleagues say that you are a true stickler for the rules.”

“Science is something profoundly different,” Kavanagh said. “In science, there is clarity, even if we don’t always see it right away: cause, effect, natural laws, structure. You break the rules, you pay the price. Not because you’ve made some deity angry but because nature is what it is: consequent and indifferent, regardless who you are and what you want.”

“And that gives you great comfort, doesn’t it?”

It wasn’t really a question, but Kavanagh nodded nevertheless.

“It does. People can be dishonest. Nature cannot. It might kill you, but it won’t deceive you with false hopes and promises that were never meant to be kept.”

“Like your wife,” Teyla said.

“ _Ex_ -wife,” Kavanagh corrected. “But you’re right. The marital vow states: ‘in good and in bad times, till death do us part’. We both promised that on the day of our wedding.”

“That is a very serious promise to make,” Teyla said.

“I meant to keep it,” Kavanagh replied simply. “And I believe that Bethany – my ex-wife – meant it, too, at least when we married. She was just… she was too weak to keep it, when the bad times started.”

“Which is the reason why you hate weakness and incompetence so much,” Teyla said. “I have heard about your strong reactions to failure. They are feared, I’m told.”

“In a place like Atlantis, weakness is unacceptable,” Kavanagh said. “It puts others at risk. That’s a luxury we cannot afford. Especially with the Wraith hovering in the background.”

“There are different sorts of strength, doctor…” she trailed off, a little uncertainly. “Is it all right if I call you Calvin? I do not wish to usurp your sister’s name for you.”

Kavanagh nodded in agreement. “We aren’t close enough for that,” he said. “I already told you that Calvin is fine. But if you want to…”

“Later, perhaps,” Teyla offered, “when we’ve come to know each other better.”

That ironic eyebrow climbed up again. “You want to know me better? Where does that sudden interest in my unworthy person come?”

“You’ve been an enigma for me, from the beginning,” Teyla answered thoughtfully. “I knew nothing about you, just what the others told me – which wasn’t very flattering.”

“I’m not surprised,” Kavanagh commented. “What surprises me is the fact that you’ve apparently given me a second thought. Not many people tend to do that.”

“You are brutally honest,” Teyla said with a slight smile, “and that’s something most of your people aren’t comfortable with.”

“What about _your_ people?”

“We try to be very honest to each other, as we need to be able to trust each other unconditionally if we want to survive. It’s not always easy, because of hurt feelings, and sometimes we fail,” Teyla admitted. “But we try. As I see it, the only difference between you and us is that we try to deliver the truth gently. You don’t seem to have such concerns.”

“I don’t see a reason to walk on eggshells around grown people,” Kavanagh shrugged. “Besides, I’m always honest with the kids, too. It keeps them well-grounded. And it makes them strong.”

“Are you sure it does? What if they misunderstand you and come to believe that you don’t care for their feelings? How did they take the news that you were leaving for a long time – probably forever?”

“Siobhan and I discussed this with the kids,” Kavanagh said with another shrug. “They know – well, at least Liam does – why I’ve accepted this job. And Tommy… He’s more used to Siobhan and Patrick than to me.”

Teyla wasn’t entirely convinced, but there was an infinite sadness in the man’s voice, so she chose not to argue anymore. It wasn’t likely that they would come to an agreement in this anyway.

For a while neither of them spoke, and the silence grew between them, but it wasn’t an uncomfortable one. Kavanagh stared at the small screen of his laptop, at his children playing in the grass in some suburban home’s garden. His eyes were distant and sad but dry… the eyes of a man who found great comfort in a decision already made.

“Have you ever considered having a new partner?” Teyla finally asked. “It’s not good to be alone.”

“Considered? Yes,” Kavanagh replied, “but I realized soon enough what a hopeless case it was. Who would take a single parent with a damaged kid? Besides, I always tended to have long working hours. Women like their partner at home every time and again.”

“True enough,” Teyla agreed. “That’s why our custom is better. If you have several spouses, you’re never lonely. Someone’s always there for you.”

“Not for you at the moment, apparently,” Kavanagh pointed out.

Teyla nodded. “True again, but that’s a temporary situation. One that I intend to change, very soon.”

“Why are you in such a hurry?” Kavanagh asked, a little bewildered. “I understand that you don’t want to be alone – who would? – but you’re young enough. You have plenty of time to find a proper partner.”

“No, I haven’t,” Teyla said. “Our bodies are more attuned to the seasonal changes of our old homeworld than yours are attuned to the seasons of Earth. Our women are only fertile during the late summer and autumn seasons. That ensures that babies would be born in springtime, when food is aplenty. If I don’t conceive within the week that’s left from the autumn season, I’ll have to wait almost a year until my next fertile cycle.” She paused, then looked him directly in the eyes and added. “That’s why I need your answer _now_.”

The sound of Kavanagh’s jaw hitting the floor could probably be heard all the way to the Gate room.


	3. Part 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to sgatlantislight from LJ for suggesting the Fragile X syndrome. I only added a little twist for some quality Kav angsting. ;))  
> This is a fairly short part, but it came to a natural end here, so I decided to keep it that way.

*** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ***   
**Part 3**

“You need _what_ from me?”

It didn’t happen all too often that Dr. Calvin Kavanagh was too shocked for coherent speech. His rants were famous and much feared within the scientific community of Atlantis. At the moment, however, he felt like a fish out of water, opening and closing his mouth several times before blurting out that less than intelligent question. His reaction would have been funny, had his shock not been so obviously deep.

“I need to know whether you would be willing to father my child,” Teyla said calmly. “I would prefer a permanent bond, obviously. But as I am not with my own people anymore, I am willing to make… allowances.”

Kavanagh shook his head in disbelief. "Surely you must be kidding. Why would you want to have anything to do with me? Nobody ever did.”

“Your wife did, once,” Teyla reminded him.

“Yeah, and we both know in what a spectacular failure _that_ ended,” Kavanagh said, the old pain audible in his dry voice.

“True,” Teyla admitted. “But just because you had to suffer such misfortune once, it doesn’t mean that you would not deserve a second chance.”

“I appreciate the sentiment,” Kavanagh said, still not at all convinced. “I’d still like to know how you came to ask _me_ , of all people. I’m not exactly Mr. Popular here, and not the best husband material, either.”

“You could be both, with some effort,” Teyla replied. “But I believe you secretly _enjoy_ being disliked. That saves you the effort to be nice to people – and the pain of a possible rejection.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Kavanagh tried to laugh, but it didn’t sound very convincing. And Teyla didn’t laugh with him at all.

“Why else would you choose to be alone?” she asked. “You are an intelligent, good-looking man. Even though your manners are not always pleasant, you could have found suitable mates long ago. Not everybody is easily intimidated.”

“Nobody is _intimidated_ by me, save perhaps Miko,” Kavanagh snorted. “They just hate my guts, plain and simple.”

“Well, you do not make it easy for them to _like_ you,” Teyla pointed out. “And after tonight, I believe I understand _some_ of your reasons. You do not wish pity and you do not tolerate weakness. I can see why. But I do not understand why are you so adverse to _my_ proposal. I am not one of those who ‘hate your guts’, as you so eloquently put it.”

“You don’t understand shit,” Kavanagh spat, for her poking and prodding made him feel vulnerable – a feeling he hated more than anything. “I’ve already abandoned two children; even if it was for their own good. I’m not a prize father – and I could easily turn into the same cold-hearted bastard as my old man.”

“True,” Teyla had; she had no illusions about him. “But this is an excuse, not a reason. I thought you were an honest man, Calvin.”

“I am,” he protested.

“Then stop lying to me,” Teyla demanded, “and tell me the true reason why you wouldn’t father my child.”

“I can’t,” Kavanagh whispered in such clear anguish it frightened her.

“Why not?” she asked gently.

“Because _I am_ the reason for Tommy’s… condition,” Kavanagh shoulders slumped as if under a burden too great for him to bear anymore. “The cause for it is a genetic dysfunction – one that I’ve passed to him.”

“I don’t understand,” Teyla said. “You are healthy; you must be, or else they wouldn’t have accepted you for this expedition.”

“I’m a carrier,” Kavanagh explained tiredly. “It’s most likely a new mutation of the disorder known as Fragile X syndrome. Usually, carrier males pass the permutation – a dysfunctional gene – to all their daughters but none of their sons. The doctors can’t explain how could I have transmitted it to Tommy. It was supposed to be impossible – and yet it has happened. I can’t risk _that_ to happen again.”

“What kind of illness is this?” Teyla asked.

“A development disability,” Kavanagh replied in a strangely practiced manner, as if he had explained it to too many people in the past already. “Basically, the dysfunctional gene shuts off the production of a special protein in the human brain. A protein that’s needed for normal cognitive development…”

Teyla raised a hand. “You are losing me. Can you say it simpler? Without all the scientific terms? I’m not a doctor, remember?”

“Sorry,” Kavanagh grinned ruefully. “It means that the child with the syndrome will never learn normally, despite extensive therapy and rehabilitation.”

“And you are absolutely certain that you do have this dysfunctional gene?” Teyla asked.

Kavanagh nodded. “I’ve been tested after Tommy turned out to have the syndrome.”

“What about your wife?” Teyla asked.

“She ran away shortly thereafter,” Kavanagh shrugged. “But does it really matter? We knew that I have been the transmitter.”

“Are you sure?” Teyla said. “If your wife has never been tested, how can you know that she is not a carrier, too?”

Kavanagh frowned. The thought had apparently never occurred to him before.

“I don’t know it,” he finally admitted. “But how high could the possibility be that we both have the same dysfunctional gene?”

“I can’t even guess,” Teyla shrugged. “Perhaps we should ask Doctor Beckett.”

“No,” Kavanagh said promptly, without thinking.

Teyla raised a tolerant eyebrow. “Why not? Don’t you want to know whether you have passed the illness to your son or not? Perhaps you’ve been carrying the guilt with you all this time for no reason.”

“Unlikely,” Kavanagh said. “And for such a small chance I won’t let nosy medical personnel dig around in my past. I value my privacy very much.”

“So much that you would rather sacrifice the chance of having children – _healthy_ children – ever again?” Teyla asked quietly. As Kavanagh couldn’t find a prompt answer, she added. “Besides, is Dr. Beckett not bound by doctor-patient confidentiality?”

“I still don’t want him to know,” Kavanagh replied stubbornly. “This isn’t something that would show up in my file, and I prefer to keep it that way.”

“And _I would_ prefer to know the risks I am taking,” Teyla said just as adamantly.

“I can tell you the risks,” Kavanagh exploded. “Even if Tommy got the dysfunctional gene from my wife, I still _am_ a carrier. Which means I would pass the gene to all theoretical daughters I might father. And _they_ would have a fifty per cent chance to pass it to any children _they_ might have, male or female alike. So there. Are you willing to risk that?”

“Yes, I am,” Teyla said calmly. “But not before we talked to Dr. Beckett and I have been confirmed that there are no greater risks involved.”

Kavanagh shook his head in utter bewilderment again.

“I thought you were in a hurry,” he said.

“I am,” Teyla nodded. “But I still have ten more fertile days left. Maybe eleven. One day won’t count. The question is: are _you_ willing to do this for me? Or are you too frightened to have another damaged child?”

“I _am_ afraid,” Kavanagh admitted. “Children with Fragile X syndrome need special care, and while I wouldn’t miss Tommy for the world, it’s not easy to provide that care. Not even back on Earth, with special schools and specially trained personnel. How could we provide the necessary therapy and rehab here, in Atlantis, should we have a child with the syndrome?”

He broke up abruptly, realizing that he was actually _considering_ the possibility of having a child with Teyla. Teyla smiled at him, not in triumph, which would have made him go all stubborn again, but with gentle understanding.”

“You _do_ want to do it, do you not?” she asked.

Kavanagh sighed, admitting his defeat. “Of course I do. I always wanted a large family, especially after we had learned that my sister couldn’t have any children. But after Tommy, I never dared to give it a try again.”

She took his hand in hers and said softly, almost pleadingly. “Let us go and talk to Dr. Beckett then, shall we?”

Unable to resist her soft persuasion any longer, he nodded slowly, hesitantly. The touch of her lips on his felt like a breeze upon the gist of the ocean – light and refreshing.


	4. Part 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Re: Beckett's speech patterns. Since I really don't have a clue about Scottish accent, I simply followed Scotty's way of speaking as shown in various official Star Trek novels. I'm not very consequent, and there may be mistakes - be merciful with me. :)

*** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
PART 4**

Dr. Carson Beckett was surprised to find an urgent request for a confidential meeting with Teyla on his desk, first thing in the morning.

“She came in late in the night and asked for you,” Denise, the nurse from the night shift, said. “She didn’t say why, but it seemed fairly urgent. She asked if you could go to her quarters.”

“Aye, I can do that,” Beckett was clueless of what it could be about, as Teyla had looked all right the day before. But he’d never refused a request from a potential patient in his life. “Anything else?”

“Dr. Kavanagh called in sick,” Denise replied. “He said it’s a mild case of upset stomach and that he’ll come by later.”

Deep in a dark, very unprofessional corner of his otherwise gentle heart, Carson Beckett was amazed by the courage of the bacteria that had actually dared to attack Kavanagh. One would think that even the stoutest germs would flee in terror from such an unwelcoming host. On the other hand, the strange combination of MREs and Athosian food could upset the strongest stomachs in two galaxies. Compared with that, haggis was an easy dish to digest.

Amazed by the fact that Kavanagh might actually have something in common with human beings – and ashamed by his own reaction – Beckett looked up today’s schedule. It promised to be one of the relatively easy days (although in Atlantis one could never know, of course), so that he could afford to start lab work a little later.

“Listen, love,” he said to Denise, “I’ll go to Teyla’s quarters and see what her problem is. Call me when something happens.”

“Of course, Dr. Beckett,” Denise nodded. “Don’t worry; I’ll keep the shop running here.”

 *** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ***  
 _No one should be confronted with a surprise and a shock on an empty stomach before work_ , Carson Beckett thought, after he had absorbed the fact that he’d just found _Kavanagh_ in Teyla’s quarters. The scientist and the Athosian woman were obviously having tea – unfortunately the Athosian blend that Carson, personally, couldn’t get used to.

“I thought you were sick,” he said to Kavanagh.

The scientist shrugged. “We needed an excuse to speak to you in private. I’ve been working double shifts since we got here. I think I can take one shift off. But you’re free to report me to McKay, if that’s what you want.”

“Calvin,” Teyla warned. “You promised not to antagonize Dr. Beckett right away.”

“Sorry,” Kavanagh said, not looking the slightest bit apologetic. “Old customs die hard.”

Teyla gave him a patient smile – the one that was actually her very personal equivalent of an eye roll – and then turned to Beckett, who was still trying to accept that she was now obviously on first name basis with Kavanagh.

“I apologize for the ruse, Dr. Beckett,” she said smoothly, “but as I’ve already told the nurse, we need to speak with you in a confidential matter. I know we can trust your discretion; however, we are not that sure about the rest of your staff.”

“Hey, wait a minute,” Beckett protested. “My people wouldnae go against their oath!”

“I believe you,” Teyla said, “but people like to gossip, and the mere fact that we sought out your help – together – could start the rumour mill. We would prefer to avoid that.”

That was true enough. Due to the almost complete lack of other entertainment sources, people had basically two kinds of amusement in Atlantis: talking shop and gossiping. And, to be completely honest, the idea of these two having anything to do with each other baffled Beckett to no end.

“I see,” he said tentatively. “Well, what can I do for you?”

“We need your opinion as a doctor on a certain… disease?” Teyla looked at Kavanagh questioningly.

The scientist shook his head. “It’s not a disease, Teyla, it’s a condition.” He turned to Beckett. “I’m a Fragile X carrier. We want to know if there’s any chance I might have passed the gene to my younger son, who is heavily affected by the syndrome.”

Being a geneticist, Beckett was familiar with the disorder, of course, and didn’t need to think about it long.

“Not to my knowledge, there isnae,” he replied. “There ain’t any known cases of a carrier male transmitting the permutation to a male child.”

“But is it possible?” Kavanagh pressed.

“Highly unlikely,” Beckett said. “Of course, the FMR1 gene has only been detected in 1991, and I’m not exactly up-to-date with the latest research efforts. I do have the reports filed off somewhere in the medical database, though. I can look it up for you, if you wanna me to do so.”

“How long would that take?” Teyla asked quietly.

“I cannae say for sure; couple o’hours, maybe,” Beckett said, still not understanding the apparent urgency of their case. “Why are ye in such a hurry?”

“There is a flight scheduled for the mainland tomorrow,” Teyla replied. “If your answer is a positive one, we need to be on that jumper. Each Athosian child must be conceived upon living soil, not in a box of dead metal like this place. And my fertile cycle is nearing its end.”

For an endless moment, Beckett looked from one to the other, rendered speechless.

“You… you wanna have a _baby_ together?” he finally all but squealed. 

Kavanagh’s only answer was a darkly amused sort, as if he’d said ‘I told you so’, but Teyla didn’t lost her calm for a moment.

“If the risks are acceptable, yes, we do,” she replied.

“Very well,” Beckett said. “Let me look up the latest research. I’ll call you when I’m done. And since ya dinnae want the others to know about this, we should meet for lunch. All three of us. Come up with a good excuse for eating together, and I’ll join you.”


	5. Part 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the simplicistic crash-curse in genetics. Beckett _needed_ to make Teyla understand things somehow, and she didn't have any previous knowledge of such things. The details about the Fragile X syndrome were borrowed from the following website: www.conquerfragilex.org/. I hope I haven't misinterpreted anything.

*** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
PART 5**

After several hours of shifting through medical databases – the official ones and his own extensive genetic research database – a tired and somewhat worried Carson Beckett was making his way to the mess hall. What he had found would do little to ease Teyla’s mind, as it most contained theories and statistics and very little hard proof. Unfortunately, that was all he could offer them.

He found them at a table in a lonely corner. Teyla was stoically eating today’s ‘creative’ choice of cookery, while Kavanagh, trying to keep up the ruse of a stomach problem, was staring into a cup of Athosian tea. They didn’t look like a couple in love, for sure. Beckett couldn’t even guess the motivation behind their wish to have a child together.

“May I join you?” he asked, in the unlikely case that one of the four Marines present would watch them.

Teyla nodded. “Please, Doctor Beckett.”

Beckett put down his tray, and for a minute or two he pretended to be eating the stuff on his plate. It required considerable willpower to swallow it without gagging, but he already had much experience with that.

“Well, he said, after having ingested as much of… whatever food it was supposed to be as he was able to get down,” let me tell you what I’ve found. I’m afraid it isnae much, but…” he trailed off with a shrug.

“Please continue, doctor,” Teyla said.

“Let’s start with basic facts,” Beckett said. “The syndrome is caused by a gene called FMR1. Individuals who are affected by it have a defect in the FMR1 gene, which shuts it down. To put it simply, the gene cannae manufacture a protein it usually makes: a special protein that the brain needs for normal cognitive development.”

Teyla nodded. “Calvin has already explained me that affected children cannot learn normally. What we want to know is more about the way this… this _defect_ is passed down to the next generation.”

“That’s a difficult question,” Beckett replied. “Fragile X carriers, like him, do have a small defect in the FMR1 gene – we call that a permutation – without showing any symptoms o' the syndrome itself.”

“Why is that?” Teyla asked.

“Och you can ask questions,” Beckett sighed. “Well, the gender of a human being is determined by chromosomes. Females have two X chromosomes, males an X and a Y chromosome. When a child is conceived, both parents pass to it half o' their genetic heritage. As the child can only inherit an X chromosome from its mother, it’s always the father whose genetic stamp decides the gender of the child.”

“Wait, doctor, you are getting too medical for me,” Teyla interrupted. “Are you saying that women are two parts female while men are half male and half female?”

“That’s an extremely simplicistic way to put it, but that’s basically it, aye,” Beckett nodded.

“So the child gets a female half from the mother and either a male or a female part from the father?”

“Aye, that’s correct.”

“And if it gets a male part from the father, it will be a boy, but if the father passes down a female part, it will be a girl?”

“Exactly.”

“I understand. But how is that going to help us?”

“Well, I’ve double checked the research papers, back to 1991, to see if I was remembering correctly, and I was. The FMR1 gene is located on the X-chromosome… on the ‘female part’ of a child. A boy has only _one_ X chromosome, inherited from his mother. There is no way he could inherit it from his father,” Beckett looked at Kavanagh with a frown. “What kind o' doctors have ya consulted that they never explained you such simple facts?”

Kavanagh shrugged. “They weren’t geneticists. When the DNA blood test identified Tommy as a syndrome child and me as the carrier, they simply sent us to the therapy center. Never bothered with explanations, except of telling me that, theoretically, I shouldn’t be able to transmit the gene to Tommy.”

“Well, to their defence, I had to look up the details first, too,” Beckett said. “But they shouldae looked them up. You really thought you gave the kid the disorder?”

“I couldn’t be sure,” Kavanagh said, “as nobody ever bothered to tell me _why_ it was impossible. Besides, how big could be the chance that my wife was a carrier, too?”

“Fairly big, actually,” Beckett answered. “One out of two hundred and sixty women _are_ carriers.”

“Does this mean that it was definitely my ex-wife who passed down the gene to our son?” Kavanagh asked.

“There isnae any other way,” Beckett said. “The permutation can be passed down silently through several generations in a family before a child is affected by the syndrome. Has it surfaced in _your_ family before?”

“Not that I’d know,” Kavanagh shook his head. “As for that of my ex – I can’t tell. I only ever met her parents, and even that not all too frequently.”

“Well,” Beckett said, “as long as you have only sons, you’re safe. Unless Teyla, too, has the gene. We can find out that through a simple DNA blood test.”

“I’ll come to the infirmary right away,” Teyla said. “But let’s say that I’m not a carrier and we will have a daughter. What chances would she have to be affected by the syndrome?”

“According to recent studies, one in four thousand girls are estimated to be affected,” Beckett answered. “Unfortunately, statistics cannae foretell what the case would be by a particular person.”

“What if she’s not affected?”

“She still would be a carrier, with a fifty per cent probability to pass down the gene to _her_ children.”

“I see,” Teyla contemplated the possibilities for a while. “Is there a cure for the syndrome?”

“Not at the moment, there isnae,” Beckett said regretfully. “Dr. Kavanagh can tell ya how education and medication can help improve a syndrome child’s condition, but the sad truth is, most boys – and many girls – remain significantly affected all their lives.”

“I cannot believe that with your technology there’s no help for this condition,” Teyla said, clearly disappointed.

“We’re doctors, not wizards, love,” Beckett replied. “There is a lot of research going on, back on Earth, of course. One direction is working on a gene therapy. They’re trying to determine whether the mutated, ineffective gene in an individual may be replaced by inserting a healthy gene into their cells.”

“That can be done?” Kavanagh asked.

“Aye, theoretically it’s possible,” Beckett said. “After all, havenae I managed to produce a synthetic Ancient gene? The problem is, we still dinnae know enough of the FMR1 gene to risk such drastic measures. I wouldnae do this, not before an awful lot of further research.”

“Is there any other way?” Kavanagh asked. Beckett nodded.

“Aye, we could try to supplement the protein a mutated FMR1 gene cannae produce from an external source. However, messing around with the protein production ain’t any less risky than experimental gene therapy. And we all swore an oath that before all else, we’ll do no harm, you know.”

“That leaves treating the symptoms with medications,” Kavanagh said, “which hasn’t been very effective, so far.”

“No, it hasnae,” Beckett agreed. “But we are making headway all the time. And who knows, we might find something helpful in the Ancient database one day.”

“That’s a very long shot, doctor,” Kavanagh said.

“Aye, it is,” Beckett nodded and rose. “Well, I have to go back to the infirmary. I havnae done a thing about my actual work yet.”

“And I’ll go with you,” Teyla stood, picked up her own tray and glanced at Kavanagh. “I’ll contact you as soon as we have the results.”

“You’ll find me in the gym, same time as last night,” Kavanagh replied.


	6. Part 6

**PART 6**

Kavanagh decided to go back to work for his second shift, after all. There was much to do, and he didn’t feel up to face the fact that the doctors at home had been right and he wasn’t responsible for Tommy’s condition just yet. He had lived with the assumed guilt for six years; he couldn’t simply shake it off.

He needed distraction, and nothing could distract him from his own problems more than a good, thorough bitching session with Simpson. They could argue for hours about just everything. Simpson wasn’t a bad scientist _per se_ (or she wouldn’t have managed to get into the Atlantis crew to begin with) but she was way too emotional, prone to take unnecessary risks just to get what she wanted. Given that Kavanagh himself was determined to avoid unnecessary risks at any costs, confrontation was inevitable.

Of course, Simpson didn’t bear the responsibility for two children. She didn’t need to survive for their sake. Not that he knew of it anyway.

When they had one of their notorious arguments – which happened on a daily basis – Dr. Julia Simpson always argued passion-driven and with utter devotion. In a purely scientific environment, that would have made her lose most arguments inevitably. In a purely scientific argument, Dr. Calvin Thomas Kavanagh, who had learned to set his feelings aside in order to approach the problem at hand in the cold light of practicality, would have had the better cards to win.

In their current environment, however, under the rule of a _politician_ and led by the gifted but eccentric (not to mention slightly hysterical) Rodney McKay, he had no chance to win.

He was sick and tired of being the whipping boy of the science department. He was sick and tired of getting the crappy jobs and being cut off most of the really challenged projects. He was sick and tired of being underused and not appreciated, just because he ‘lacked certain social skills’, as people liked to call his refusal to tell white lies. Sometimes he asked himself in all honesty whether the extra payment was truly worth having left his loved ones for good and living here among people who despised him.

Well, at least _one_ person had found desirable qualities in him. Even though he was truly frightened to father another child – a daughter perhaps, who’d still inherit the defunct gene from him – the fact that Teyla had chosen him of all people filled him with absurd pride. The woman wasn’t a fool – and he was already familiar with most expedition members. There were a handsome number of potential partners, eager and available and getting doe-eyed whenever in her company. And yet Teyla had chosen _him_.

But was he ready to become a father again? To take the risk of having an affected daughter? _One in four thousand girls can be estimated to be affected_ , Beckett had said. And even if not, she would be a carrier. With a fifty per cent chance to pass the gene down to _her_ children. Could he take that risk?

On the other hand, how could he pass on the chance to have another child? A new family? Sons, perhaps, who would be guaranteed to be healthy, unless Teyla had the gene, too? Could he give up the chance to end his desperate loneliness and finally _belong_ to someone?

His fantasy gave him a vivid image that he would vehemently deny, should everyone find out about it. That of a little house on the mainland, with a slightly neglected garden, laughing children learning to wield the fighting sticks from their mother. And himself in the back yard, repairing some obscure piece of machinery…

He shook his head in disgust. This was getting ridiculous. That might be _Zelenka_ ’s dream of a happy future; it was most certainly not _his_. He needed to claw into some scientific problem – or a really elaborate fight with Simpson – to get those absurd images out of his head.

 *** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ***  
To his dismay, he only found Petersen in the lab. On a regular day that wouldn’t have been too bad. The Danish engineer was quiet and competent – and not a big fan of McKay, either. Right now, however, Kavanagh needed someone to fight with.

“Where’s Simpson?” he asked.

“Called to the North Pier to check out some sort of machinery,” Petersen replied in a bored tone. “McKay originally wanted _you_ , so it must have been something disgusting,” he added with a mirthless grin. “Your timing was perfect. Did Beckett send you back to work already?”

“No, I wanted to come back,” Kavanagh said. “It was just an upset stomach – most likely stress-related.”

“Small wonder when one has to work for McKay,” Petersen commented dryly. “You okay now?”

“Sure. Sitting in my quarters would only give me cabin fewer. Make me crawl up the walls. What are you working on?”

“I’m analyzing some Genii data McKay managed to… _organize_ from their planet,” Petersen grinned, making the international gesture that symbolized stealing. “Do you want to take a look?”

“Sure, why not?” Kavanagh joined the other engineer, glancing at the data displayed on the viewscreen. “Hmmm… interesting.”

They worked without a break until the end of the second shift, but the results were meager at best.

“Well, at least we might be able to detect underground Genii facilities, if we modify the jumper’s sensors,” Kavanagh finally said.

“ _Might_ being the key word here,” Petersen grimaced. “But we shouldn’t touch anything in the jumper system before consulting Zelenka.”

“He won’t like the idea,” Kavanagh warned.

“Perhaps not,” Petersen agreed, “but at least he is reasonable. Well, we can’t do much more here today. I’m beat. You coming to grab some food in the mess hall?”

Kavanagh shook his head. “I’m not hungry.”

“Yeah, right… your stomach,” Petersen nodded. “You need to eat, though. At least some toast and tea.”

“In the morning, perhaps,” Kavanagh said, shutting off his laptop. “Thanks, Willem.”

“What for?” Petersen shrugged, already on his way out. “Get better!”

 *** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ***  
Kavanagh returned to his quarters where he still had some Knäckebrod stashed. He hadn’t lied when he told Petersen that he was not hungry – he was too nervous for that. But he knew he needed at least something in his stomach before starting to work out, unless he wanted to faint. Or ‘pass out from manly hunger’, as McKay had said about himself.

Sitting down at his desk, he began to chew on one last piece of an entire world now lost to him, and, powering up his laptop again, he pulled up the pictures of his children. He knew Liam would miss him more than little Tommy. Siobhan and Patrick were careful not to neglect the talented firstborn because of the needs of the younger, more dependent child, but let’s face it, neither of them had the intellect that would match Liam’s. Nor the interest for technical things, to be able to guide him. Calvin’s only hope was that Dion, a talented computer geek, would be able to help the boy pursue his special interests.

Liam had understood why his father had to leave. That this was the only way to pay his special school for talented children, and for Tommy’s therapy and rehabilitation. He was an exceptionally bright child. But that didn’t mean he would not miss his father terribly. They used to be very close, two braniacs in a pretty average family.

Was it betrayal towards Liam and Tommy that their father was considering giving them a new sibling here, in this far-away place? Was it selfish that Calvin didn’t want to be alone anymore? Assuming they were going to find a ZPM and so a way to make short visits at home, what would the family say to Calvin getting involved with an alien woman?

He snorted at the thought, realizing the he was being ridiculous. Even in the unlikely case that they got to visit their homes again, he’d never be allowed to speak about anything here. _Including_ Teyla and any possible children with her.

Somehow, it made him sad. He imagined Liam’s eyes sparkling at the news of his father living in a ten thousand year old city that could fly through space. Of machines that could be activated by mere thought. If anyone, Liam would appreciate the whole situation very much.

It was sad that he wasn’t allowed to learn of the very thing that would have made him incredibly proud of his father. Ever.

 *** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ***  
The gentle but persistent shake of a small, warm hand on his shoulder woke him. Apparently, he had fallen asleep over his half-eaten piece of Knäckebrod and the children’s picture. So much about working out today. Staying in form. Whatever.

He blinked several times to get his bearings, feeling a little embarrassed. It didn’t happen often that he’d fall asleep over his laptop – at least outside the lab and with only one shift behind him. He looked right into the serene face of Teyla.

“Dr. Beckett gave me a clean bill of health,” she said simply. “I do not have the defunct gene. We can do this or we can leave it. The choice is yours.”

“You truly want to go through with this?” It wasn’t really a question, but he wanted to offer her one last way out.

She nodded. “I do. I understand the risk involved, but there are _always_ risks, in everything we do. I believe the advantages outweigh the risks, though.”

Kavanagh hesitated for a moment. The silence grew heavy between them.

“Very well," he then said. “Let’s do it. Hopefully, I’ll follow the tendency and father a son again, so that we won’t have to worry.”

Teyla nodded. “Perhaps. Now, we need to be on that jumper tomorrow afternoon.”

“Afternoon? I thought we were gonna start early in the morning.”

“There was a change of plans,” Teyla told him. “I realized that tomorrow is the eve of a traditional Athosian holiday – a strictly family matter – and we need to be there on the evening before.”

“Is there truly a holiday?” Kavanagh asked suspiciously. She shook her head, eyes steady and unsmiling.

“No, there is not. Aside from what we are planning, that is. Creating a new life is the source of great joy for my people.”

“That’s certainly… nice, but how are we gonna get me on the jumper?” Kavanagh frowned. “Zelenka has been assigned to the task, and since he has family among your folk, he won’t step back on my behalf.”

Teyla interrupted him with a smile and a raised hand. “You worry too much. It has been taken care of. Dr. Beckett is scheduled to pilot the jumper – Major Sheppard wants him to hone his fighting skills – and he said something about needing a chemical analysis of the ground water near our settlement. He also said that you have a degree in chemistry.”

“I do. But I’ve hardly ever used it, so far.”

Does it matter? Dr, Beckett filed a request to take you along for the job.”

“Becket is covering for us?” Kavanagh was in equal measure impressed and surprised. Teyla shrugged.

“He said it was part of doctor-patient confidentiality.”

“Isn’t that an amazingly expandable concept?” Kavanagh grinned. “But that still leaves us with the problem of Zelenka. The man is the worst gossip in Atlantis.”

“He is also part of an Athosian household,” Teyla said, “and understands the necessity of not carrying Athosian maters back to Atlantis. Trust me; he knows when to keep things to himself. Marta and Halling have trained him well.”

“I’d still prefer if he didn’t know,” Kavanagh said sourly. “Not that I’d be ashamed of what we’re gonna do – I just don’t want the Atlantis rumour mill getting wind of it. It’s not their goddamn business.”

“Well, it would be a little hard to hide the scene when we clasp hands in front of the entire settlement,” Teyla replied wryly.

“When we do _what_?” Kavanagh felt panic welling up in him. It was all too much, too soon.

“Calvin,” Teyla said patiently, “for an Athosian child to have its rightful status in the tribe, its conception must be announced. This does not make you ‘married’ to me, as your people understand the founding of a new household. It only makes the parents of a particular child known to the tribe. It is a custom born out of the necessity to avoid inbreeding.”

“And how in hell are we supposed to keep this to ourselves?” Kavanagh snapped. “With the entire frigging settlement knowing?”

“Not a single word about it will get back to Atlantis if you do not want it,” Teyla said seriously. “By fathering my child, you will become one of us. And we protect our own, no matter against whom or what.”

The concept of actually _belonging_ to a group of people as close-knit as the Athosians were, did have its appeal, he had to admit that much. That the Athosians would simply accept him just because he’d agreed to give Teyla a child. He was still a bit freaked out from the idea of the entire settlement knowing of it, but foreign galaxies were entitled to have foreign customs. As long as Zelenka kept his mouth shut.

“All right,” he said, “but no word gets back to Atlantis, or the deal’s off. I don’t want Bates and his fellow jarheads making dirty jokes about my… performance.”

“Teyla inclined her head gracefully. “Not a word,” she agreed.


	7. Part 7

**PART 7**

The shuttle flight to the mainland in the next afternoon was ‘a wee bit tense’, as Dr. Beckett would have put it, had he not been frightened to death - like every single time he had to fly a jumper. Without exception. His natural distrust towards any sophisticated machinery that might or might not have a mind of its own had not been dampened the least by his natural ATA gene. On the contrary. In his opinion, every machine that could decide for whom to work and for whom not, was _not_ to be trusted.

So the good doctor was sitting at the controls with a sweaty face and slightly glassy eyes, while Kavanagh and Zelenka exchanged sympathetic grins and mildly exasperated eye rolls behind his back. Both would have given an arm to fly a jumper, but as neither of them had the gene, there was just no way they could have taken over. Lieutenant Ford, not an ATA-carrier either, was sitting next to Beckett in the co-pilot’s chair, to provide the poor man with some much-needed moral support.

When they finally reached the mainland (which took them about twenty minutes), Dr. Beckett was a nervous wreck (as always) and the two engineers were greatly relieved. Despite their general trust in Ancient failsafe mechanisms, flying with Beckett always made them nervous. Especially Zelenka, who had witnessed Beckett’s first ever ‘performance’ with Ancient technology, back in Antarctica. 

Only Teyla didn’t lose her calm; not for a minute.

“I need to talk to Halling first,” she said to Kavanagh quietly, while they were leaving the jumper.

“What about Ford?” he asked, a little worried. “You didn’t say anything about him coming with us.”

“I did not know about it, either,” Teyla replied. “It was one of those last-minute decisions Major Sheppard seems so fond of. But worry not, he will be properly distracted.”

Before Kavanagh could ask what she meant, Anika, the blonde Athosian healer – the one with the tendency of wearing loose blouses with artificial tears on the shoulders and who always had her hair in a knot akin to a French twist on the nape of her neck – came running up to them. She took Ford’s face into both hands and touched her forehead to his, in the characteristic Athosian gesture of fondness. Ford laughed and kissed her briefly.

“Oh,” Kavanagh said. “I see what you mean.”

Anika now turned to Beckett and repeated the gesture with him. Beckett, too, laughed and gave her a light peck on one cheek. Kavanagh felt his eyes bulge. Despite the seemingly casual greeting, there was an underlying familiarity between the three of them, and he wondered briefly which one might be intimate with the blonde woman. Age-wise Anika seemed to be somewhere between Beckett and Ford, so both could come in question.

“Different galaxies… different customs,” Zelenka said quietly. “You will learn Athosian way, too, once you’ve married Teyla.”

“I’m not gonna _marry_ her,” Kavanagh said indignantly. “We are jut gonna have a baby together.”

“Really?” Zelenka asked mildly. “May I ask _why_ are you not marrying her? Athosians make great partners. Voice of experience speaking here.”

“I don’t believe in marriage,” Kavanagh replied. “Tried it once; it didn’t work out.”

“Neither did mine,” Zelenka said with one of those quirky little smiles of his. “Doesn’t mean you can’t try again.”

“Oh, but I can’t,” Kavanagh replied with bitter irony. “I’ll already spend uncountable ages in purgatory for having divorced my wife. Remarrying would make me burn in Hell, forever.”

Zelenka blinked a few times owlishly. “Your really believe that?” he finally asked.

“Of course not, don’t be an idiot,” Kavanagh returned. “It was just a reflection from my youth… an echo of my dear Dad.”

“I see,” for a while, Zelenka remained silent. Then he glanced up into the taller man’s face and said seriously, “You should not listen to it. We are far from home and will probably never return. You are offered to have new home here, among these people – you should take on offer. They’re good people – and if you want to have baby with Teyla, that baby will need father.”

“I intend to take care of my child,” Kavanagh snapped.

“I don’t doubt it,” Zelenka patted him on the forearm, “but it’s easier when parents are together, yes? Think about it.”

He gave Kavanagh another of those funny little smiles and walked away, straight into Marta’s arms. The short, dark-haired woman touched foreheads with him, and then they kissed each other in Earth fashion, unhurriedly. Marta was quite visibly pregnant and accompanied by a taller, equally dark-haired woman of roughly Zelenka’s age. Kavanagh remembered her. She was called Ireni and was the mother of Wex, the best friend of Halling’s son, Jinto. The two boys came running up, too, hugging Zelenka affectionately, while Ireni touched foreheads with him. Knowing what he already knew of Athosian social structures, Kavanagh wondered for a moment what exactly the connection could be between them.

He didn’t have much time to think about _Zelenka_ ’s family, though, because Halling was already approaching him with Teyla on his side. The new leader of the Athosians touched his forehead to Kavanagh’s, for the first time since they had met. He barely needed to lean forward. Calvin was a tall man himself, although not as tall as Halling, of course. _Nobody_ was as tall as Halling, and that mere fact gave the Athosian an air of natural authority.

“Doctor Kavanagh,” Halling said in that soft, lilting voice of his, which always was surprising, coming from such a large, lean body. “I am glad to hear that you agreed to give Teyla – to give our people – a child. This is a day of great joy for us all. First Radek, and now you… bondmates coming from outside make a tribe stronger.”

“We are not going to bond, Halling,” Teyla reminded him. “We are only having a child together. Calvin has… other responsibilities back home, for another family.”

“You are bonded?” Halling asked in surprise.

“I used to be,” Kavanagh replied curtly. “I’m not anymore.”

But Halling wasn’t easily dismissed. “Do you have children, too?”

“Halling,” Teyla interfered, her discomfort apparent. “This is not our concern. He is not joining us fully, as Radek has.”

“I don’t mind him asking,” Kavanagh shrugged. “I have two sons. They live with my sister’s family.”

“Two sons?” Halling said. “You are fortunate. Should your people find a way home, you must bring your sons here to visit us… or to live with you and Teyla as a family.”

“Halling,” Teyla interrupted uncomfortably, “This is not as easy as you might think.”

“Perhaps not,” the gentle giant stared at them with persistent hazel eyes. “But perhaps things _are_ simple, and it is only you who make everything complicated.”

“Perhaps,” Kavanagh said, knowing all too well that he was not an easy case. “Let’s focus on the immediate things first, though. Is there some sort of ritual we need to perform?”

“There is,” Halling said, “but it is a simple one. A bonfire will be built, and the two of you will stand in front of everyone and clasp hands, and I shall call all to witness.”

“How is it different from the bonding ceremony?” Kavanagh asked with a frown. Halling smiled.

“To be bonded, you need to say the words that make you a household, in front of the entire community.”

“What are those words?” Kavanagh asked.

A faint sadness crept into Halling’s smile at that, and Kavanagh remembered that Jinto had no mother. She was dead, presumably taken by the Wraith, like so many others. There was no family here that had not suffered such a loss.

“ _I choose you, for my heart longs for you, and I am incomplete without you_ ,” Halling quoted. “ _I want to hunt with you and to fight alongside you and share my water with you. And I want to become as one with you, so that our lives would continue in our children and make our people strong_. Those are the words of bonding. For your announcement, there are no time-honoured words. You will have to think of something proper to say.”

“I’ll do my best,” Kavanagh said, and Halling nodded.

“Very well. I shall have everything organized for the ritual at sunset. Ireni will come and make you ready when the time has come.”

“Make me ready for _what_?” Kavanagh asked in suspicion. Halling gave his field grab a disapproving look.

“You cannot participate in a ritual wearing _that_ ,” he said sternly. “We shall provide something appropriate. Ireni has a very good taste in such things.”

The idea of being put into the Athosian equivalent of a tuxedo didn’t exactly made Kavanagh happy. But he knew from long-time experience with his sister when _not_ to argue about appearances. He sighed and gave in, and Halling left to give the necessary instructions for the upcoming festivities.

 *** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ***  
They still had several hours till sunset, hours that Kavanagh used to actually do the chemical analysis on the water of the small river and the lake near the Athosian settlement. It was slow and boring work, not exactly suited to take his mind off what was about to come, and his anxiety grew steadily. He knew what he _should_ do; somewhere deep down he even _wanted_ to make that final step – but he was also afraid. Well, _terrified_ would have been a better word for it. To make such an announcement, in front of the entire Athosian settlement, _plus_ in the presence of Beckett and Zelenka (and perhaps Ford, too), was… _Too soon, too fast, too much_ , he repeated the mantra in his mind, not for the first time in the recent forty-eight hours.

He had barely finished working when Ireni and two other, younger women whose names he didn’t know, came to prepare him for the ceremony. They led him to the tent that served as a sweat lodge and cooked him there for about an hour or so. Then they poured buckets of cold water over his head, nearly causing him a heart attack, and rubbed him dry, not all too gently. Finally, they brought him Athosian clothes – based on the size, he guessed those had to belong to Halling – and insisted to let his hair down, coiffing him in the fashion the few Athosian men with long hair usually wore. He felt completely ridiculous, like a character from some Sword-and-Sorcery movie, but Ireni seemed satisfied.

“You are a very handsome man when dressed up properly,” she judged, performing the last little touches. “Our fashion suits you better than Earth clothing. You should wear Athosian clothes more often.”

For a completely insane moment, Kavanagh imagined himself walking into McKay’s lab, wearing this very attire. He could practically see the annoying chief scientist sputtering in indignation – and Zelenka guffawing in the background. Simpson’s jaw would hit the floor, rendering her speechless for the first time since he’d known her… Yes, he definitely liked the image, even if it was purely theoretical, because he would never do that.

“And you should smile more,” Ireni added. Kavanagh’s only answer was a snort. As if smiling would change anything.

Darkness was falling quickly when they returned to the gathering place of the settlement: a rectangular place that was surrounded by tents on all four sides. The bonfire was burning already in a ring built of large boulders in the middle of the square, and the Athosians were gathered around it, laughing and chatting and apparently having a good time.

Teyla, clad in what had to go as an evening dress among her people, stood there, with Halling on her side, waiting. In the crowd, Kavanagh could make out the faces of Zelenka and Beckett but no trace of Ford, at least not yet. Well, that was a relief. He didn’t want anyone else to know about this. Not anyone else on Atlantis, that is.

As Ireni led him to Halling, there was a joyous murmur among the spectators. It irritated him a little, because he was simply going to get Teyla pregnant, for fuck’s sake, not about to perform some sort of weird fertility ritual or whatnot. How could Zelenka bear the ridiculous suspicions of these people? And the man called himself a _scientist_?

Halling raised a hand and people became silent, staring at them with happy anticipation.

“My friends,” Halling announced, “I call you to witness the union of Teyla and Calvin today, which will begin here, before your very eyes. May it be fulfilled in their children and may it make our people strong.”

The Athosians cheered and clapped their hands, some of the younger boys even whistled loudly. It sounded ridiculously like the crowd firing on the players of a football game, and that irritated Kavanagh, too. Still, he had his wits around him enough not to give any outer sign of his irritation.

“Clasp hands and declare your intentions,” Halling said.

Teyla smiled and proffered her hand to Kavanagh who accepted it, after one last moment of hesitation.

“I choose you, Calvin, because you are strong and smart and honest,” she said, and he thought he’d never seen her more beautiful than right now, with her eyes dark and mysterious and her smile so warm, so intimate. “I want that in my children. You are a brave man who has come a long way for your loved ones and for the things in which you believe. I want that in my children, too. I know that the customs of our people are different from yours, and I thank you for doing this for me… and for our people.”

She was still smiling, and he lost himself in that smile for a moment, before someone gave him a nudge to remain him that it was his turn to speak now. He opened his mouth nervously. The truth was, the whole afternoon had not been enough for him to come up with anything sensible to say, and he felt a slight panic rose in the pit of his stomach. Yet all of a sudden, he heard himself speaking, saying words he had never intended to say. Or so he’d thought anyway.

“I choose you because my heart longs for you,” he began, and at once, the crowd became utterly silent, only the crackling of the fire could be heard. This sudden, intense attention made him insecure and he felt his throat tightening, unable to continue.

“If you truly want to turn this into a bonding ceremony, you _must_ speak the words,” Halling warned him in a low voice; he was the only who didn’t seem surprised at all. “Do you remember the correct phrasing?”

Kavanagh nodded nervously, still unable to speak.

“Do you want to go all the way?” Halling asked.

Kavanagh nodded again.

“Then you must speak, _now_ ,” Halling said.

Kavanagh cleared his throat, more loudly than it was necessary. He had started this, he‘d have to finish it. There was no backing off now, not anymore. And if he wanted to be honest, he didn’t even _want_ to back off. Zelenka had been right. Just because his marriage with Bethany had ended in a disaster, it didn’t mean he could not have a second chance. And Teyla was strong. She wouldn’t run away, should something not turn out as expected. Together, they could make this work.

He looked into her dark, beautiful eyes and felt his nerves calm down, unexpectedly. She had chosen him. She wanted this, wanted _him_. What was there to fear? Well, aside from hostile aliens want to eat them all or to blow them up, but that was another matter entirely.

“I am incomplete without you,” he said slowly, trying to remember the words Halling had quoted earlier in the afternoon. Some of them were fairly anachronistic for him, but they were very real for the Athosians, so he had to put aside his embarrassment and simply say them, no matter how ridiculous they sounded in his 21st-century ears. “I want to hunt with you and to fight alongside you and share my water with you. And I want to become as one with you, so that our lives would continue in our children and make our people strong. Do you want this, too?”

“I do,” Teyla said in a strong, even voice, although the surprise was still clearly written in her exotic features.

“Then before the eyes of these witnesses, I declare this new household as founded,” Halling announced. “May your bond remain true and may the blessing of the Ancestors remain with you.”

Athosian ceremonies apparently didn’t contain the part where the groom would be allowed to kiss the bride, but Kavanagh didn’t need any special encouragement. Teyla’s mouth was soft and pliant under his, revealing nothing of the hidden strength of this determined woman, and he thought that perhaps this wasn’t a mistake, after all.


	8. Part 8

**PART 8**

His abrupt choice to turn the simple agreement into a full-fledged household bond had also turned the modest ceremony into an all-out feast. It was surprising how quickly the Athosians could produce heavily laden tables, with food and beverages for everyone present, not to mention music and song and dance. It was the most surreal event he’d ever taken part in, including his first wedding, performed by Reverend Luther Kavanagh, Rector at St Andrew’s; the first time his unforgiving father had spoken to him after his break-out.

The festivities were still going on, and everyone pretended _not_ to notice when they sneaked away. Teyla had kept her own tent on the mainland, a bit on the side of the settlement, where her old friend and mentor, Charin, could keep an eye on it. It had been prepared for them, with fresh sheets on the bed and scented candles and a pot of stout tea on the low table, to give them strength for what they were about to do.

The Athosians treated the whole issue as the most natural thing in the world, but also with reverence and joy. There were no dirty jokes, no double-meaning in their remarks, no slimy encouragements. Their manner was respectful and joyous, so refreshingly different from the way how the majority of the Atlantis crowd would have reacted.

And yet Kavanagh felt nervous. It had been a long time since he’d as much as touched a woman, and even longer since he’d touched one he actually cared for. He used to have a thing for Dr. Fraiser, back in SGC, but she only considered him a good friend (which they had been, in fact), and besides, she died before he could have figured out the right approach. And the quickies with the female lab rats just didn’t count. Those had been mostly for stress relief, on both sides. None of those women had shown even a remote interest for his _person_ – and the feeling had been mutual. He couldn’t have imagined any of them wanting to become the mother of a child like Tommy.

“Are you having second thoughts?” Teyla asked quietly.

He shook his head. “No. Just a little performance anxiety. It’s been a long time since I was with anyone.”

Teyla laughed. It was a surprisingly deep, pleasant sound that seemed to come directly from her belly.

“Have no fear,” she said, while her nimble fingers were already loosening the knotted leather tie – the Athosian version of a belt – on his waist. “I shall take good care of you.”

Kavanagh was willing enough to let her call the shots. He didn’t know how Athosians did this, after all. What they liked. What they preferred. So he was perfectly content with lying on his back and letting Teyla straddle him and do all the work. Having two make bondmates must have provided her with sufficient experience.

His cynical attitude was washed away he moment she went to work in earnest. The incredible focus on his reaction, the single-minded determination to bring out the best of him was dizzying. He arched into her touch with a hunger he never knew he had in him. As if something had snapped in him, deep within, in some hidden place, setting free all the passion he’d held bottled for too long. He didn’t even realize that the growls he could hear faintly through the throbbing of blood in his ears came from him. The heat inside him was tearing him apart, seeking a way out, like molten lava.

Never before had he allowed himself to let go completely. Tall and lanky he might seem, but he knew he was stronger than he looked and could have hurt his partners had he not held back. Teyla, however, was different. She was his proper match, both in strength and passion, and gave as good as she received, holding him with her strong legs like vice while he broke. He could feel her fingers digging into his back, and when had they flipped over? She was clinging to him while he rode out his climax, her head thrown back, her long neck arching like Cupid’s bow, her eyes wide open, sightless and darkened with want.

She contorted around him, grabbing and then releasing him with her inner muscles rhythmically, her chest heaving – and then, with a long shudder, she went still. He carefully rolled over next to her, finally released from her embrace. His throat felt raw – he must have screamed at some point during their coupling, even though he had no memory of doing so – and he was drained like never before in his life. Well, not in a similar situation, that is. Work-related exhaustion was something entirely different.

A small, deceivingly strong hand touched his damp forehead, and he heard Teyla’s deep, throaty chuckle.

“You will need the sweat lodge again before we return to Atlantis,” she said.

“I may never move again,” he mumbled; then something occurred to him. “Do you think we’ve done it? Or do we need another round?”

“We catch easily,” Teyla replied. “More so since you have not been very… active lately, have you?”

“Not really,” Kavanagh admitted. “Too much work, no free time, no suitable partners. When will you know?”

“In about four days’ time,” sensing his surprise, she shrugged. “We are different that way. The changes begin almost immediately.”

“What changes?” he asked, envisioning her with a huge belly.

“Mostly internal ones,” Teyla said, twinkling, as if she knew what he was imagining. “We are much more aware of the functions of our body than Earth women. We can recognize the difference. The process is differently paced, too, and we don’t show till the last twenty days or so.”

Kavanagh nodded. For a hunted species, constantly on the run, that made sense.

“So you’ll be able to go on offworld missions for a while yet,” he then said.

“If I had just made a child with an Athosian man, I wouldn’t even give my… condition a second thought,” she replied. “But I know I need to be more careful with _our_ child. Dr. Beckett warned me that there might be… complications. We are much alike, your people and mine, but not completely so. I will have to avoid strenuous activities for a while.”

“No more fight lessons with the major-who-is-never-wrong?” Kavanagh teased. Teyla laughed.

“And no more sampling of Dr. Zelenka’s moonlight.”

“Moon _shine_ ,” Kavanagh corrected, grinning. Zelenka’s self-concocted booze was something of a legend on Atlantis. Like the Loch Ness Monster or the Yeti – just the other way round. Everyone knew of its existence, but nobody would admit to ever having tried it. “You’ve really tasted the stuff?” he shuddered involuntarily.

“It was vile,” Teyla admitted. “He said it reminds him of _becherovka_ – not the taste, which this beverage has none, but the impact. I heard that Sergeant Markham got sick of it. Strange. Dr. Zelenka did not seem influenced at all.”

“That’s a Czech thing,” Kavanagh explained lazily. “Them and the Russians can drink like a fish, without the consequences all other people would suffer.”

“What about you?” Teyla asked. “Are you a heavy drinker, too?”

Kavanagh shook his head. “Nah, I don’t have the stomach for that. My father was very stern, he didn’t tolerate any alcohol in our house – well, aside from the wine required for mass – so when I ran away from home, I got terribly drunk, just because I could. But I was sick like a dog for days afterwards, so I never tried it again.”

“The ways of your people are strange,” Teyla said. “I shall have to learn more about these things if I wish to live with you in a shared household.”

“Do you?” Kavanagh asked seriously. “Do you really wish to do it? Or did you just allow the spirit of the feast to sweep you away?”

“No, I truly want this,” she said. “I wish to have a household with you. I believe that between the two of us, we can make this work.”

“Between the two of us, perhaps,” Kavanagh said. “But what will the others say to it? _Zelenka_ had a hard enough time after marrying Marta, and everyone likes him. Everyone on Atlantis hates _me_ – well, save from Petersen, perhaps, but that’s only because he hates McKay more. We’ll be given a lot of grief about this… especially you.”

“Why me?” Teyla asked in honest surprise.

“Because nobody would understand why you’ve chosen _me_ , of all people,” Kavanagh replied with a mirthless grin, “and half the men would be mortally insulted that you haven’t chosen _them_.”

“I do not understand,” Teyla’s confusion was obvious. “This is _my_ choice. No Athosian would ever dare to tell me whom I should found my household with. This is a matter between you and me, as no other spouses are currently involved. The community’s only right and function is to witness the bonding. Do your people have different customs?”

“Well, ultimately, the choice is ours, and there’s nothing they could do against it – not legally, at least,” Kavanagh said. “That doesn’t mean, though, that they wouldn’t bitch and stink about it.”

“They would _stink_?” Teyla repeated, completely flabbergasted now. Kavanagh laughed.

“It’s a figure of speech,” he explained. “It means they are going to make unpleasant remarks.” Practical jokes would be even more likely, including quite rough ones, but he didn’t want to mention that possibility right now.

The image of a very pregnant Teyla chasing two Marines – both twice her size – along Atlantis’ corridors with her fighting sticks came to his mind uninvitedly. The last thing she needed in her condition (assumed that she’d _got_ pregnant at all) was to beat up the jarheads. Speak about stress and strenuous activities.

“I can always suggest people to be selected for weapons training,” Teyla said mildly, as if she’d read his mind. “I can beat up anyone with one hand bound to my back, you know that.”

“I know, and the thought _is_ a little frightening,” Kavanagh admitted. 

Teyla laughed, licked her thumb and began to rub it against a nipple, making him groan.

“Give me no reason and you will have nothing to fear,” she said, wetting her thumb again and working her way down his body, which had already started to show signs of interest. “I have you in my hand, completely at my mercy,” she added, her eyes glittering in amusement, because it was the _literal_ truth.

“I can… live with that… I think,” his voice broke, because she was doing wicked things to him under the blanket with that clever little hand of hers. “Keep doing that… and we… won’t be having a… second turn…”

She laughed and kissed him, a gesture she was still getting used to.

“That can wait,” she said, “until we know whether I have caught or not. Right now, I just wish to play. This is a luxury I did not have very often in the past.”

Well, if she wanted to pay, who was he to say no, as long as he was included in the game? He grinned his agreement, and their former desperate urgency turned into a playful wrestling that kept them occupied for the rest of the night.

 *** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ***  
On the next day Kavanagh went to work again and actually did the ground water analysis that had been his excuse to come here in the first place. Jinto and his friend Wex came to watch him working and asked surprisingly intelligent questions for teenage boys with no formal education. As long as he left out the technobabble, they were able to understand the basics. After a while, he even allowed them to handle the simple instruments. 

It was like making experiments with Liam all over again.

Unbeknownst to him, Teyla and Halling were watching them from afar.

“He is good with children,” Halling said. “You chose wisely, Teyla. I believe he will be a good caretaker for your household… unless you plan to assume that position for yourself.”

Teyla shook her head. “No, I will be busy enough being the senior wife.”

“Do you wish to extend the household eventually?”

“In time, perhaps. But first Calvin has to learn to be comfortable just with the two of us being together.”

“He still wants to keep your bond a secret?” Halling asked, disapproval clear on his face.

“As secret as it could be with all our people and Doctor Zelenka knowing about it,” Teyla shrugged. “It matters not. As soon as I begin to show, the secret will be out in the open anyway.”

“But why does he wish to hide?” Halling was a little bewildered. “There is only the two of you so far, nothing to make Earth people uncomfortable.”

“He is a very private person who does not trust easily,” Teyla said. “It will take time. And it will not be easy. Doctor Zelenka’s bond with Marta did not find only supporters, either. Earth people can be dreadfully envious at times.”

“But they are worth the effort we put into them,” Halling smiled.

“Yes, they are,” Teyla agreed and walked over to her new bondmate. “Calvin, if you are finished here, we should seek out Dr. Beckett. He said something about a diagnostic device of the Ancestors. Perhaps we do not need to wait until I can feel the changes myself.”


	9. Part 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The medical jargon was provided by my good friend, Ithilwen, who always helps me out with this sort of stuff.

*** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ***   
**PART 9**

They found Beckett in the tent that obviously belonged to Anika, if the drying herbs hanging in linen sacks (or what went for linen on this planet anyway) from the roof was any indication. The blonde healer was busy stirring some concoction over a brazier, while the CMO of Atlantis was studying a hand-held tool that had an uncanny resemblance to a Next Generation medical tricorder from Star Trek. Only that the readings were written in Ancient.

Ford was nowhere to be seen, which relieved Kavanagh enormously. Whatever the young Marine’s relationship to Anika might be, the pregnancy – or the lack thereof – of Teyla was not his business. And the idea of the Atlantis military discussing Kavanagh’s sexual prowess was not an appealing one.

Anika noticed their presence first and said something to Beckett in a language that sounded suspiciously like Gaelic. Maybe it was. Athosians picked up new languages at an almost alarming speed, due to the considerable larger speech centre of their brain. Marta already spoke an acceptable Czech, at least according to Zelenka, so why would Anika, who worked with Beckett on a regular basis, not have picked up Gaelic?

Beckett looked up from his medical gizmo and gave Teyla one of his embarrassed smiles. Why he looked always a little embarrassed was beyond Kavanagh’s understanding. Granted, he didn’t feel comfortable around Ancient technology, but he wasn’t supposed to be. He was a medical doctor, not an engineer, despite having the ATA gene. And McKay’s harassment of him and the impatient reactions didn’t help things.

“Doctor Beckett,” Teyla inclined her head politely, “do you have a moment?”

“Aye, lass, for you always,” Beckett smiled again, even blushed a little, and Kavanagh felt his brows draw together. Has the good doctor developed a crush on Teyla? That would certainly complicate things.

It wasn’t that he feared competition, which he did not. He had a lot to offer, and Teyla apparently realized that. But he knew that Athosian households were not limited to two people, and he needed to get used to have someone in his life again before they would extend the boundaries and invite anyone else in.

Nor did he really want to share a family with Carson Beckett at any time in the future. The doctor was a good man but not someone he would live under the same roof with. They would clash painfully, all the time. He only hoped that Teyla would see it the same way.

Of course, he might be worrying unnecessarily. It was possible that Beckett simply got uncomfortable in the company of strong, attractive women. He constantly blushed beet red whenever Lt. Cadman spoke to him, too.

Kavanagh shook his head, surprised by the possessive streak he had apparently developed in a single night. He needed to keep himself under better control, before he started to see ghosts everywhere. That would easily lead to paranoid reactions and dreadful mistakes. So he forced himself to listen to the conversation between Teyla and the doctor instead.

“You spoke highly about the healing device of the Ancestors that had been found during the recent Gate mission by Sergeant Stackhouse’s team,” she was saying. “I understand that you have figured out how it works?”

“Well, I cannae say that I actually _know_ how it works,” Beckett corrected. “But I’m beginning to understand the readings. My Ancient isnae bad, though I’m not exactly fluent, either. I might need to talk to one of the linguists later on.”

“But it _is_ some sort of medical scanner, isn’t it?” Kavanagh asked. “What can it do, as far as you’ve been able to see?”

“It can show broken bones for sure,” Beckett shrugged. “I’ve checked it on Selena’s daughter. Her broken arm is healing nicely.”

He showed them a picture on the matchbox-sized screen of the small device. One could clearly see the broken ends knitting and growing together again… like in an illustrated medical textbook. There were even remarks in tiny print, written in Ancient.

“That’s useful,” Kavanagh said, “and probably puts less strain on the human body than X-raying.”

“Aye, and definitely easier to carry along than a bloody X-ray machine,” Beckett replied. “It can also track down bacteria and viruses, though I still have problems identifying them. It’s not so as if the Ancients had the same medical terminology as we have. But the thing shows clear pictures of the wee beasties, so we can check them with our own database. It’ll just take some time.”

“I can try to hook it up with your laptop,” Kavanagh offered, but Beckett shook his head.

“Thank ye, lad, but I’d rather not risk damaging it. Not afore we find another one that you can take apart and see what makes it tick. Besides, it’s like Rodney’s energy shield was – it imprints on the person who activates it first after a certain amount of time offline and won’t let anyone else use it.”

“Perhaps it’s the Ancient version to ensure doctor-patient confidentiality,” Kavanagh guessed. “No stranger can break into the database and view anyone’s medical data. Neat solution. Do you think it could determine whether Teyla is pregnant or not?”

“In theory? Aye it should,” Beckett replied. “I just dinnae know how to make it work that way. There wasn’t a user’s manual coming with it, you know.”

“Pieces of Ancient technology usually don’t,” Kavanagh agreed. “But they’re supposed to react to mental instructions, and you’re a natural ATA gene carrier.”

“Aye, and a very clumsy one, too,” Beckett answered glumly. “First time I got something work, I nearly killed General O’Neill and Major Sheppard. And I’m a lousy pilot, too. Hell, I never even liked to _drive_!”

“Perhaps,” Kavanagh said, “but those are things you won’t usually do. It’s understandable that you’re nervous and lack confidence. Dealing with patients, on the other hand, and making a diagnosis, is your very own field of expertise. You shouldn’t have any problems with that.”

“Perhaps,” Beckett admitted, still not entirely convinced.

Kavanagh rolled his eyes. It always annoyed him when people sold themselves under their proper price, and he happened to know all too well, that Beckett was an excellent scientist aside from being a dedicated physician. Only McKay was arrogant (and idiotic) enough to dismiss Beckett’s research as insignificant and unscientific. Medical research was of utmost importance. It could equip arrogant idiots like McKay with the ATA gene. And it could eventually enable children like Tommy to lead a normal life.

“Just try to concentrate on what you want to know and check the results with your database,” he said. “I assume you do have a compressed version on your laptop?”

“Of course I do,” Beckett replied in exasperation. “I’m insecure, not daft, you know?”

“Well, then, what are we waiting for?”

Beckett shook his head with forced patience but let himself be talked into doing the examination all the same. With a gesture that was almost comically like some scene out of Star Trek, he moved his instrument a few times over Teyla’s abdomen, then scanned the results into his laptop – the tiny, hand-held scanner was a clever creation of Dr. Zelenka, as it was still easier than trying to type up Ancient symbols… their Ancient alphabet was still far from complete.

“Hmmm,” he said after the laptop produced a series of readouts that were more alien for Kavanagh’s untrained eye than any Ancient writing. “Your progesterone hormone levels are elevated, lass. At 3.2 ng/ml, I can safely diagnose you with ovulation.”

“Which means what exactly?” Kavanagh prompted.

“It means that she is, indeed, pregnant,” the doctor answered, giving Teyla a shy smile. “Congratulations.”

Kavanagh felt strangely light-headed. Now it was done. For good or ill, they were having a child. And since neither of them believed in abortion (at least _he_ didn’t, and somehow he couldn’t believe the Athosians would), there was no way back. He couldn’t decide whether to be deliriously happy or frightened to death.

“Doctor,” he heard Teyla asking, “how long till you can tell if it is a boy or a girl?”

“Well,” Beckett said thoughtfully, “that’s not a simple question. Sex is determined at the time of conception, but it takes weeks of development before the fetus has fully-formed sex organs. In our world, the earliest we can determine the fetal sex is about ten weeks post-conception, by sampling a small portion of placenta and performing a chromosomal analysis on the cells. Most of the time, though, we don't discover the fetal sex until later in the pregnancy, either by amniocentesis or (more usually) by seeing the sex organs on ultrasound.”

“Ten weeks,” Teyla said. “That is a long time.”

Long indeed. Ten weeks of agony before they’ll know whether their progeny would be threatened by Fragile X or not.

“Can this device not tell you earlier?” Teyla asked.

Beckett shrugged. “I cannae say, love. We can try to see if it allows chromosomal analysis by scanning, so an actual cell sample wannae be required. That way we probably could discover the fetal sex.”

“Then do it,” Kavanagh demanded impatiently. 

Beckett shot him an exasperated look.

“That’s not that simple,” he said. “Even if we can determine that chromosomal sex is male (or female), we’ll need to wait to see if that will match the final gender. There are several developmental conditions which can cause the chromosomal sex to not match the final appearance of the formed sexual organs. That’s something a lot of people don't know.”

“Is Fragile X one of those conditions?” Kavanagh asked, almost tonelessly.

“It can be,” Beckett admitted, “though not necessarily.”

“Understood,” Kavanagh looked at Teyla. “Would you like to give it a try anyway?”

She nodded.” At least it might give us some idea what to expect. I am going to have this child in any case, so that is nothing we need to think about. But I like to be prepared for all eventualities. Even if there will be a change later.”

“Very well,” Kavanagh nodded; he preferred certainty himself, even though there always remained a chance that the results would be false. “Let’s do it, doctor.”

Beckett sighed but didn’t argue. He tried to form a mental image of the fetus, than that of the double helix of the DNA, and then sliding deeper into its intricate curving to locate the chromosomes that would give him the required answer. It was a strangely un-scientific method, but until they learned to read Ancient and interpret the medical jargon of the Ancients, there was not much else he could have done.

The device gave a beeping sound; again, so much Star Trek-like that Kavanagh would have laughed had the situation not been so serious. Beckett scanned the results into his laptop again, and checked the correlations. And checked them again. And checked them for the third time. Then he looked up at them with compassion.

“I might be wrong,” he said slowly, gently, “but according to these readings you’re gonna have a daughter.”

~The End~

Soledad Cartwright@2006-07-30


End file.
